Why I Turned My Back on Zionism
I grew up believing Zionism was everything—until I couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. This is my story of love, loyalty, and painful reckoning with a movement that shaped my family and my identity.
To my mother, Zionism was the most essential thing in the world. She came from a privileged and well-known family in New York and possessed incredible literary talent. After attending the writers' workshop in Iowa, all doors were open to her in the literary world, despite being a woman in the late 1960s. She had it made.
Instead of taking advantage of those opportunities, she came to Israel and started a life in Jerusalem. It was more important to her than anything that her children build a life in Israel. To her deep regret, neither my sister nor I did. Both of us ended up in the United States. She passed in 2017. If she had known that I had turned my back on Zionism and Israel, she would have mourned. Maybe even considered disowning me, though she wouldn’t because she loved her children far too much.
I know that and have to live with it. That makes my decision to abandon Zionism incredibly difficult. It makes my feelings about Israel and its future heart-wrenching. It is also why I only made this decision late in life. Probably far too late.
Why I Had to Move on From Zionism
When October 7th happened, I was filled with rage toward Hamas. Like many, I watched the footage of brutalities, and when the IDF entered Gaza, I cheered them on. Over time, the suffering of innocent Gazans began to bother me—but not as much as it should have. I had become desensitized, like so many other Zionists.
But over time, the images from Gaza started to haunt me. The turning point came with the revelations about Sde Teiman.
In May, CNN published an expose detailing abuses at Sde Teiman, followed by a New York Times report confirming these claims. Both drew on Israeli and Palestinian sources. At first, I dismissed them because Israeli media and my government denied everything. For years, I believed the international media was biased against Israel—that they were antisemitic. But slowly, I realized how deeply I had been lied to. Not just by outsiders, but by my own country, my friends, and my media.
Many who initially denied these allegations later admitted they were true. The worst part? These truths didn’t come out because the IDF or government had a change of heart. They surfaced only because pressure from the UK, the International Criminal Court, and the International Court of Justice became too great. Netanyahu, Gallant, and the Chief of Staff faced serious legal jeopardy, so they finally admitted the truth: Israel routinely tortures detainees, sexual abuse is common, some prisoners die from torture, and many jailed were innocent—rounded up by mistake and thrown into hell without any real verification.
This cannot continue.
From that point, I began looking more critically at what Israel was doing. It pains me to say it, but I had to confront the fact that my country, my friends, and my family were part of a genocide. Early in the war, I insisted that accusations of genocide were blood libel, spread in bad faith. I was right about some actors, but wrong in my overall judgment.
The seeds of genocide had been sown long ago, nurtured by a Zionism that I now understood had been deeply flawed from the start.
I had always sensed something was wrong with Zionism—that beneath the promise of a safe Jewish homeland lay a dangerous exclusivity. The ideology, as it hardened, increasingly dehumanized Palestinians. It denied their humanity and justified their displacement and suffering.
Several moments pushed me to face this truth. I realized Netanyahu wasn’t running the war to defeat Hamas but to escalate violence. The Sde Teiman revelations exposed official lies and cruelty. The slaughter of paramedics and the cover-up shattered my trust. Then came the campaign to bomb every hospital in Gaza, the destruction of water sources, and the sniper shootings of children. The full picture was undeniable.
Zionism began as a movement for survival and self-determination, but over time it morphed into a project that demanded ethnic exclusivity and supremacy. This exclusivity bred fear, hatred, and denial of the other’s humanity.
That denial made it easier to justify systematic torture, displacement, and now, genocide.
This descent was slow but steady—a tragedy born of fear, denial, and the erasure of Palestinian humanity.
I had understood this all along, in a way. But I was silent, desensitized, caught between loyalty and truth.
Now, I cannot stay silent anymore.
What Happened to Zionism?
This personal reckoning opened the door for me to look deeper at Zionism’s history and how it evolved into what it is today.
Do I think Zionism is evil? No. Not really. But it has become a force for destruction and oppression. A movement is only as good as the ideas and quality of its leadership, and the current Israeli leadership speaks for itself. It is warmongering and believes in repressing Palestinian nationalism and, most horrifically, is committing genocide in Gaza.
Was it always this way? The history of Zionism is complex and contested. Some say it began as an unredeemable evil, designed to drive Palestinians off their land. Others see it as a decolonization effort, a liberation project for a persecuted people. The truth is more nuanced. It was a group of human beings fleeing antisemitism, with deep historical ties to a land they believed was their true homeland.
They faced many challenges early on. Malaria and lack of land were initial hurdles. But a more profound problem soon emerged: Palestinians had been living there for generations, with no intention of leaving. They viewed the new immigrants with suspicion and hostility.
Some believed the Palestinians could be bought off. Others thought they could be driven away. Some hoped Jews and Arabs could coexist peacefully. All were proven wrong.
The only one who fully understood the situation was Ze’ev Jabotinsky. He rejected the idea that Palestinians would ever voluntarily accept a Jewish majority. He wrote, “I consider it utterly impossible to eject the Arabs from Palestine. There will always be two nations in Palestine.”
Jabotinsky emphasized that native populations fiercely resist colonization: “Every native population…regards its lands as its national home…and it wants to retain that mastery always.” No agreement could be reached “now, nor in the prospective future,” because Palestinians would hold on as long as they hoped to reclaim their land.
His solution was the “iron wall”: a strong, independent Jewish power that Palestinians could not breach. Only after realizing resistance was futile would Palestinians be willing to negotiate. “Not till then will they drop their extremist leaders, whose watchword is ‘Never!’”
Now that the Jewish presence is permanent, that iron wall can come down. The time has come to lower defenses, acknowledge each other’s rights, and seek genuine coexistence. Only then can both peoples move toward the mutual concessions necessary for lasting peace.
The Cost of Hardened Nationalism
Yet, decades of conflict have hardened both Palestinian and Zionist national movements. They turned into rivals who lost much of their humanity and committed atrocities. We each nurse long lists of grudges and deny the suffering of the other. As Benny Morris memorably said, we have become “Righteous Victims.”
Both nationalist movements have run their course. Despite occasional compromises, they were maximalist and at times genocidal. Both failed to defeat the other but succeeded in creating cohesive groups that refuse to leave the land, often with nowhere else to go.
We are stuck at a dead end. Violence and terrorism on both sides feed off each other, culminating in tragedies like October 7 and the ongoing genocide. Both claim full rights to the land and refuse to disentangle.
The reason this conflict is so intractable is because both sides are partially right. Both have a right to live on the land. Neither has the right to exclude the other.
Why Zionism Is No Longer a Useful Concept
That brings me to a painful conclusion: Zionism, as a political framework, has outlived its usefulness.
Zionism began as a dream to return to the Land of Zion and create a home. That dream was realized. But over time, the term has come to represent something more complicated and troubling. You can draw a straight line between the Nakba and the genocide happening in Gaza today.
At its core, Zionism was born from a righteous cause: a safe homeland for Jews after centuries of persecution. But any nationalism that centers one group’s identity and rights above others inevitably causes harm.
Ethnocentric nationalism demands exclusivity. It defines belonging narrowly and leaves little room for others to share the land or claim equal rights. Even well-meaning nationalist movements risk becoming systems of exclusion and violence when focused on preserving privilege instead of embracing coexistence.
Zionism fell into this trap. What began as a quest for survival has too often denied Palestinians their rights, becoming entangled with policies that marginalize and oppress.
This is not unique to Zionism. History shows righteous causes filtered through ethnocentric nationalism lead to suffering for others. No cause, however just, is immune.
To move forward, we must reject exclusivist nationalism and embrace frameworks recognizing the humanity and rights of all who share the land. Letting go of ethnocentric Zionism doesn’t mean abandoning Jewish identity—it means expanding it to include justice and equality for all.
Only by breaking free from these limits can lasting peace be possible—where all live with dignity, security, and mutual respect.
The Deep Injustice in the Current System
Words like “occupation” and “apartheid” are often thrown around regarding Israel and the Palestinian territories. These are not mere buzzwords—they reflect harsh realities on the ground, especially in the West Bank.
Most people there want simple things: to work, care for family, and live safely. But violence and fear shatter this normalcy. Palestinian villages suffer settler attacks—arson, vandalism, assault. Settlers on the roads face shootings and ambushes. The violence is endless.
What’s striking is how differently these acts are handled. For example, after a terror attack in Hadera in 2022, Israeli security forces swiftly arrested the perpetrators and their accomplices. But when a Palestinian village near Nablus faced settler arson in 2023, Israeli authorities made no arrests despite evidence.
This imbalance breeds injustice, resentment, and despair. The problem is systemic. Palestinians face military courts with fewer protections, while settlers are under civilian law. Movement restrictions, resource limitations, and permit denials cripple Palestinian economic and social life. Housing demolitions and settlement expansions shrink Palestinian space. Education is unequal and disrupted.
Security, law, economy, housing, education—these illustrate a system privileging one group over another, embedding inequality into daily life. This lived injustice sows bitterness and erodes hope.
To build a future where both peoples coexist with dignity, these structural inequalities must be addressed. Otherwise, grievance and violence will persist.
Solutions
Identifying the problem is easy. The hard part is solving it.
Both sides claim all the land—and both are right to want it. Sharing it demands reimagining political structures.
A federal system offers one path: self-governance within distinct regions under a shared constitution. Israelis and Palestinians govern their communities, preserving culture and autonomy, while cooperating on security, infrastructure, and foreign affairs.
But federalism alone isn’t enough. A strong constitution must guarantee minority rights, equality before the law, freedom of religion, and protection from discrimination. Independent courts and watchdogs must enforce these rights fairly. Transparency and rule of law are essential.
This model could dismantle physical and psychological barriers—no more separate roads, checkpoints, or walls. Education would promote mutual understanding. Economic cooperation would link prosperity, incentivizing peace.
This vision requires courage to compromise and recognize the other’s humanity—even when it feels impossible.
The alternative is endless cycles of violence and despair, stealing hope from new generations. A federal, constitutional future holds the best chance for Israelis and Palestinians to live side by side as equal partners.
Security Problems
Many Israelis fear a bi-national state because of security. The idea of not having a Jewish-controlled military protecting its citizens is chilling.
But much of this insecurity stems from the conflict’s root causes—the occupation and repression. If resolved, violence would lessen. After all, the state would represent Arabs and Jews alike.
Security forces would need to be inclusive, protecting all citizens. This shift requires trust, professionalism, accountability, and community representation.
Joint training, integrated command, and civilian oversight can build legitimacy. Seeing officers who understand their communities reduces fear.
Ending occupation and establishing equal rights would remove many grievances fueling violence. Without checkpoints and raids, daily life could shift from confrontation to cooperation.
Extremists exist on both sides, so strong legal frameworks, intelligence sharing, and conflict resolution are crucial.
Security depends on trust—trust that rights are respected and violence condemned no matter who commits it. This trust grows through transparency, dialogue, and shared investment.
The challenges are real but not insurmountable. Maintaining division ensures perpetual insecurity. Equality offers the best chance for lasting peace.
The Costs of Conflict
The costs are heartbreaking. Since October 2023, tens of thousands of Palestinians—including many children—have died. Over a thousand Israelis have also lost their lives. Hundreds of thousands are injured and displaced. Communities lie in ruins. This is among the deadliest chapters in a tragic history.
Each cycle of violence deepens wounds and hardens hearts. The spiral grows more brutal, pushing peace further away.
This is the price of ignoring the root causes: justice, land, and mutual recognition. Without addressing these, violence will erupt again and again.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
We stand at a crossroads. The cost of inaction is unbearable.
We must break free from hatred and despair. We must dare to imagine Israelis and Palestinians living not as enemies, but as partners sharing a land and a future. Zionism has no place in that future. It was designed to keep people out, when what we need is to let them in.